Trail of Crumbs

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Before I begin this post, I feel it pertinent to provide a little background on my relationship with my brother. This is what happened after he shared an article I wrote on Facebook:

 

This was a rare moment of non-vitriol. Most of the time, I just tell him that I hate him and that he needs to get a job. Normal sibling stuff.

Ours is built on mutual animosity and resentment that has, over the years, blossomed into even more resentment. Though to my credit, I stopped kicking him the balls, like, three years ago.

This is my favorite photo of me and Edward when we were little:

LOOK HOW GODDAMN CUTE I WAS.

 

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Friends, Seattleites, Pac NW Countrymen, lend me your ears!

… Today kinda sucks, huh?

At least we’ll always have 2014.

 

For some of us, this pain is not new. It’s one we’ve come to know well. We were there when Hasselbeck won the coin toss in the wildcard game in 2003, when he bravely said we were going to score, and instead was intercepted. We pounded on the ground so furiously when we beat the Cowboys in the playoffs in 2007, that our downstairs neighbors complained.

We felt so wronged in the Super Bowl in 2006, we can barely talk about it.

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I have to tell you something.

I’m an absolute sucker for weddings. I basically turn into a squealing frenzy of crazy every time we find out we’re actually able to make it to a friend’s nuptials. It probably doesn’t take very much explaining to understand why.

 

If I got an email from a wedding, telling me it was a dethroned prince, and offering to share millions of dollars with me, I would IMMEDIATELY give it my bank account and routing numbers. That is how much I love weddings.

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I have a mustache.

Acceptance now, you guys.

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I’ve mostly come to terms with this. I’ve had it for the better part of twenty years, and like my weird toe (which we will not be discussing) or my amazing European nose, it is very much a part of me.

But every now and then, I get the crazy idea that maybe I should get rid of it, which is what we are sometimes tempted to do to the things that put the “unconventional” in our “unconventionally beautiful.”

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I am at it again. Spending way too much time replying to spammy requests for guests posts or ads. Apparently I haven’t made it clear enough here or here.

 

This time, I’ve started including photos and graphics in my replies, which I think is a nice touch. It really tells these people who haven’t bothered to read a single word on my site that I care. Because anyone can tell them to fuck off. But me? I take that extra step to confuse them.

While I was answering these emails, my husband’s reaction was as follows:

“Baby … what?”

“I don’t know if this is the best way to spend an afternoon.”

“Shouldn’t you be working on your book?”

“Is that my shirt?”

And the answer to all of these questions is a resounding “MAYBE.”

Here’s the third installment of this series. Earlier blog posts can be found here and here.

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I got an email the other day from someone who was about to have brain surgery. This, in and of itself, isn’t anything new – since writing about my own surgery, I get a couple of emails a week from people who are in similar (or, as is often the case, far scarier) situations. But this last email I received was a little different – the author asked me just one simple question.

Did I have any practical advice for things she should do before her surgery?

I realized that while I had written rather extensively about the emotions that surround brain surgery, and I’d discussed a few of the things I learned from it, I hadn’t really discussed what I did beforehand to prepare for the experience.

And so, since I haven’t been traveling all that much of late, and there is little to report on that front, I thought I’d dedicate a blog post to her question. I want to make it clear – this is just stuff that I felt the need to do. When I’m stressed, when I feel like my life is a little out of control, I get very organized.

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After the delightful success of my email conversations with Ted (spoiler: we’re now totally besties, and talking about gelato), and all the fun I had last time I replied to PR pitches and the like, I decided to respond to a few more emails that I probably shouldn’t have.

I’m starting to think I have too much time on my hands.

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These are actual emails (or portions thereof) that I have received, with my replies listed beneath them (yes, these were emails I really sent.) No one has written back, except for the last guy, and I’m guessing he wishes he hadn’t.

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There has been a lot of talk lately about Rand’s facial hair. And not just by me. Other folks have been blogging about it, too.

He started growing it out after Thanksgiving, just to see what it would look like. And it looked pretty much the same as it always did – a bit shaggier perhaps, but that was it. But then, after a few months, the whole thing started to curl.

I, personally, thought this was hilarious. Rand was not as much of a fan. I remained fascinated at how much his look changed. Some days he resembled an old-timey-prospector …

There’s a joke here … something about how he could pan my river anytime …

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